


Tucker-Reed 1

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-25
Updated: 2006-02-25
Packaged: 2018-08-15 17:38:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8066659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: A drunken Tucker proposes to Reed. (09/20/2002)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: This fic is in response to kagygirls 4000-post challenge! I think I got it all, if interpreted a little differently. Plus attacking a few stereotypes of Americans and Britsl  
  
Kalita, thank you so much for the middle of the night (for me at least) fix up!  


* * *

Trip took a long swallow of his Andorian ale and glared hard at Malcolm. "Do you have to always do the 'stiff upper lip thing'?" He found himself looking at the bottom of the bottle and motioned for the bartender to bring him another. "Well, do you?" He asked and pushed what counted for currency on this space station at the bartender.

"What exactly are you referring to Mr. Tucka?" Malcolm replied, distain marking his voice.

"That!" Trip cried out and ale bottle at Malcolm. "Mr. Tucka." He mimicked. "Can't you even call me Trip when you insult me in that tone?" He took another long pull form his ale and swung around until he was facing Malcolm. "You need another beer."

"Since you drank both mine and yours." Malcolm stated and motioned for the bartender and turned to Trip. "Do you mind telling me how I've insulted you?"

"It's all in what you don't say. All that British reserve. You can be down right snotty. Like a dog left out in the rain."

"And is your so called Southern charm any better?" Malcolm retorted. "Since we are listing faults here. You are impulsive, hot headed and opinionated." Malcolm set his ale down and waited for Trip to react.

"My momma is proud of me." Trip said and picked up Malcolm's ale and finished it in one swallow. "And I speak my mind, what's wrong with that?"

Malcolm chuckled and took Trip's almost full ale and set it out of his reach. "You do it quite loudly." He'd lost count of how many ales they had shared and he was sure Trip was well into his cups.

Baiting Trip was beginning to feel like a sport, like bull fighting. Every word he said was a red flag, gaining Trip's attention and ire. It was fun actually, seeing how many times he could wave the flag before Trip would charge.

"I'm an American." He shouted, as if that would explain everything. He nodded to himself and looked around for his ale. "We do everythin' loud."

"Oh yes, like your shirts." Malcolm said and mentally flicked his red cape in Trip's direction. Toro!

"My shirts are not loud! Yer just are too comfortable with that stick up yer ass to let loose."

Direct hit, on both sides Malcolm mused and imagined swirling the cape about his head. "Your shirts are horribly loud, and you could use a bit of that stick up 'yer' own ass. Maybe you wouldn't shoot your mouth off so much."

The crowds in Malcolm's imagined arena yelled 'ole!' as Trip ran under the cape.

"At least Ah talk. You just sit there and sneer." Trip replied and leaned into Malcolm. "You're as bad as T'Pol, but you know what?" He added, his tongue tripping over the words and a goofy smile lit his face.

"I await with baited breath."

Trip looked confused for a second then smiled. "Ah get it, some British humor. Gonna share the joke with me?"

"I believe." Malcolm began, "That you were going to say something about T'Pol. The cape lay on the dust-covered arena, roses floating down from the stands, cries of 'ole' filling the air. Trip looked blankly at Malcolm and then slapped his hand down on Malcolms shoulder. "Ah remember. Yer ass is better than hers."

"Is it?" Malcolm asked and grinned.

"Hmm mmm'looks like it could fit in mah hands." He turned bleary eyes on Malcolm. "Wanna try it?"

"After you sober up." This was beginning to have the feel of a Flying Circus episode, he expected any moment for a large foot to crash down on the bar, crushing them both.

Trip snorted. "British reserve again." He tipped forward from his bar stool and let Malcolm take his weight as he fell from the stool. "Give us a kiss." He mimicked with Malcolm's accent and placed a sloppy kiss on his chin.

Malcolm looked down at the drunken man in his arms and smiled. "When you sober up, we'll talk." He sucked in a breath as one of Trips hands found his groin and pressed against his growing erection.

"Ah don't mind if yer drunk." Trip replied and kissed Malcolm full on the mouth. Malcolm gently broke the kiss and held Trip back. "I suggest we take you back to your room before I have to carry you."

"Like newlyweds?" Trip asked with a smile. "We'd have to hyphen' something our names. Reed-Tucker. You wanna get hitched?"

Malcolm laughed and helped Trip to his feet. "It would be best to court first, then plan a marriage."

Trip found the hidden ale and glared at Malcolm. "Always gotta do things the right way. Are ya' gonna refuse pre.. premer' premarital sex too?" He took a swig of the beer and leaned back against Malcolm. "Do we hafta' have pineapple cake?"

"Pineapple cake?" Malcolm asked. It was getting hard to follow Trip's line of thought, but it was the most fun he'd had since he had blown up his Vulcan snowman.

Trip gave him a look that could have curdled milk. "At the reception, Ah hate pineapple cake."

Malcolm smiled. "We can have chocolate of you'd like." He was surprised, and more than pleased to know Trip had thought about a future for them and equally amused at Trip's drunken openness.

"I like chocolate." Trip agreed and nibbled on Malcolm's ear. "Wanna go to bed? We can get hitched later. Ah wanna go to bed. Bed. Bed. Bed." He repeated and wrapped his arms around Malcolm's waist.

Malcolm noticed how heavily Trip was leaning against him and realized he couldn't possibly get Trip to his hotel room by himself. He needed help, but first things first. "I do 'wanna' go to bed, but I'm going to need a little help. Can you sit and not fall off the bar stool again?"

Trip grinned wickedly. "Malcolm you sly dog, who else are ya' bringin' to bed?"

Laughing, Malcolm deposited Trip on the stool. "Not another soul. Can you manage to stay upright?"

"Of course Ah can stay up right, wanna cop a feel and see fer yerself?" Trip leered and promptly slid off the barstool.

"For heavens sake." Malcolm muttered and held Trip around the waist. "Let's get you to bed."

"It's gotta be real." Trip muttered as Malcolm pulled him upright.

"What need's to be real?" Malcolm asked, and waited with a smile for Trip's answer.

"The cake." Trip replied with a disgusted snort. "Ah don't wan' our weddin' guests eating re-sequenced cake. You know wha' it's made outta." He wrinkled his nose.

"I know." Malcolm said and with relief saw Travis and Jon at a corner table. He waved them over and sighed in relief. Trip was a dead weight and he was worried that the man would pass out before they made it to Trip's room.

"Malcolm, Trip." Jon greeted and looked first at Trip, then Malcolm. The answer was obvious. "Andorian ale."

"Yes, I'm afraid. Could you help me get him to his room?"

Trip looked up and waved wildly at the two. "We're getting married."

Travis laughed. "You and Malcolm?"

"Yep, Ah asked and he said yes." He motioned for Jon and Travis to lean closer.

"We're gonna go to bed. Malcolm here wants ta' try out the goods."

"The goods?" Jon asked and chuckled as Malcolm rolled his eyes.

"Yep, the goods. Me." Trip pointed at his own chest and stumbled back, only Malcolms arm around him holding him steady.

"Oh?" Travis said and looked at Jon and laughed louder.

"Don't ya' go making fun of mah Malcolm. He's got feelins." Trip told Travis and fixed him with a glare.

Travis tried hard to contain his laughter and held his hands up. "I won't. Sorry Commander."

Trip straightened up and squared his shoulders. "See that ya' don't."

Malcolm traded looks with Jon and shook his head. "Come on, Trip let's get you to bed."

Trip smiled triumphantly at the men surrounding him. "There! What'd I tell ya'. We're goin' ta' bed. Yer ass is mine Malcolm." And promptly passed out, sagging in Malcolms arm's.

"Need some help?" Jon asked and at Malcolms nod swung one of Trip's arms over his own. "Have you planned the honeymoon yet?" He was expecting a joke in return and was surprised by Malcolm's answer.

"I suppose that will have to wait until he wakes up." Malcolm put an arm around Trip's waist and held him closer.

"I imagine then, that it's true."

"What's true?" Travis asked as they walked out of the bar.

"That Andorian ale is the best truth serum." Malcolm smiled. He would sit with Trip all night, and wait for him to wake up. Now that he knew, he wasn't about to let Trip out of his sight. And maybe he could talk Trip into eloping while they were here. Tucker-Reed sounded had a certain ring to it also.


End file.
